


And Miles To Go Before I Sleep

by ghostbursupremacyhours



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Author is Not a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Body Horror, Deity Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Deity Wilbur Soot, Fundy is not Wilbur's Son in this one, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Eret, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Haired Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), MUMZA IS DEATH, Magical Realism, Parent Wilbur Soot, Platonic Life Partners, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Wilbur Soot, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, c!Dream is incredibly problematic and I am here to remind you of that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-26 10:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbursupremacyhours/pseuds/ghostbursupremacyhours
Summary: Ranboo has a set of strange memories of a paternal figure, someone he called dad, and someone he knows cared about him. After a chain reaction of unexpected events, he's forced to abandon the only land he can remember in search of the rest of his memories, and the one person who has the answers to set things right.He just hopes that in the process of finding himself, he doesn't lose himself as well.
Relationships: Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Other(s), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 93
Kudos: 266





	1. Stopping By The Woods on a Snowy Evening

**Author's Note:**

> I've already got a bunch of chapters written, so expect around a chapter a day. Also, props to whoever can see the chapter name references. Comments are welcome, antis will be removed swiftly!
> 
> No romance/shipping, all platonic/familial.

Ranboo has a memory he can’t quite place. He doesn’t know quite how he remembers it, or from where, but it’s in the memory book nonetheless. In the memory, it’s snowing softly outside a warm little cottage, and he’s sitting by the window with a small white cat curled into his lap, fingers trailing through its fur as the cat purrs contentedly. Behind him, someone works in the kitchen, humming softly. He can smell something cooking, some type of meat. Somehow he knows that it’s beef and that it’s been made especially for tonight. He doesn’t remember what the night was, but he did know that the man in the kitchen, and he’s certain it’s a man, has been excited about it.

He hears the oven shut and a few moments later the man makes his way towards Ranboo, who looks up and grins at him, heart swelling with job and affection. The memory ends just before Ranboo can clearly see his face, but there’s a word in the back of his mind, a word imbued with childish joy and safety;  _ dad. _

The memory is one of his go-to for panic attacks. Reading the words and remembering that, at one point, there was someone out there who loved him, who would have given the world for him, and he knows from that memory alone that he would’ve given up everything for Ranboo.

As Ranboo flips through the memory book, he thinks that maybe he did.

He makes his way across the snow-covered ground towards Phil and Techno’s joined houses. He knocks on the door on Techno’s side, and only has to wait a moment before it’s pulled open by the hybrid. Techno grins at him and waves him inside and out of the cold, and Rambo is very grateful when the door is shut behind him, locking out the chilled arctic air.

“Are ya visitin’ me cause you’re lonely, or is there an ulterior motive?” Technoblade asks, snorting softly when Ranboo turns visibly red.

“What, I can’t just visit my friend because I feel like it?” Ranboo stutters defensively, interrupted by a laugh from nearby.

“He’s lonely,” Phil says, and Ranboo turns around and scowls half-heartedly at the older man.

“What, platonic husband divorce you?” Techno says as they all move into the basement where the bulk of the space is.

“No, he’s just busy giving Ghostbur an updated tour and I figured I’d let them do their thing,” Ranboo says, watching as Phil opens a window and scoops a couple of handfuls of snow into a teapot before starting the woodburning stove.

“Ghostbur’s back, then?” Phil asks, frowning slightly. “How was he?”

“Fine. Weird, but then Ghostbur always is. He kept looking at me funny, though,” Ranboo says, turning to the bookshelf to find something to read. “I asked him about it and he said that he felt like he was forgetting something really important. And then tossed me some blue.”

“Sounds like how Ghostbur usually is,” Techno resting his head in a hand as he idly watched Phil make tea. “I have entire chests full of just Ghostbur’s blue.”

“You know he expects it to just be thrown away, right?” Phil raises an eyebrow, smirking lightly.

“Don’t have the heart to,” Techno grunts, accepting the hot cup of tea handed to him. “I keep imagining those stupid red puppy dog eyes…”

“I knew there was a heart in there somewhere!” Phil chirps, passing a cup to Ranboo before pouring one for himself.

“How did you know Wilbur, Techno?” Ranboo asks before quickly adding, “the living one, not the ghost.”

“Grew up with him,” Techno says. “We were practically brothers.”

“Phil raised you then?” Rambo asks, and Phil tilts his hand.

“Sorta, I was more of a teacher to Techno than a parent,” Phil says, and Techno hums, a note of disagreement in his voice.

“It’s more like you just let us both run helter-skelter with the promise that we would be home in time for dinner.” Techno corrects, then grins. “We got into so much trouble, Ranboo.”

Phil laughs. “That we can agree on. I can’t count all the times I had to pull you two out of some perilous situation.

“Oh?” Ranboo grins, tail flicking playfully. “Any particular stories?”

Phil beams behind his cup of tea. “Well, there was this one time…”

The rest of the night is spent with Phil and Techno telling Rambo stories of a far-off time and farther-off places, incidents of childish mistakes and discoveries, unexpected friendships, and unlikely pets. Laughter echoed through the space, backed by the crackling of the wood in the stove, until Ranboo finally excused himself for the night to head back to Snowchester, leaving Phil staring wistfully after him, idly stirring another cup of tea.

“You’ve got that look on your face…” Techno points out, leaning back in his chair, long pink hair coming loose from its braid.

“It’s just…” Phil sighs and takes a long sip of tea. “His laugh sounds a bit like Wilbur’s. Just making me nostalgic, y’know?”

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll let Ghostbur move into the basement,” Techno says, pointing at Phil, but the threat is empty and they both know that neither would mind if that was the case.


	2. Nothing Gold Can Stay

Ghostbur leans precariously close to the edge of the watchtower, teetering in the wind as he squints towards Pandora’s Vault. He mutters the name of the prison under his breath, interrupted as Tommy reaches over and yanks him away from the edge, muttering about making him queasy.

“Pandora’s Vault… Pandora…” Ghostbur murmurs. “Who’s Pandora?” He muses aloud, head tilted to one side, red eyes glowing eerily in the dark.

“I dunno… Ranboo, you’re the nerd, who’s Pandora?” Tommy responds, and all eyes turn to Ranboo, who blinks at them as he lowers his binoculars.

“She was a mortal from a Greek myth,” Ranboo begins. “She found a locked box, one that contained all the bad things in the world. She was told not to open it, but her curiosity got the better of her and she did anyway. All the evils of the world broke out and only one thing remained in the box; hope.”

“No, I know that,” Ghostbur says, waving his hand dismissively. “I was wondering who the real Pandora was. I remember her name, but… nothing else, except that she was very beautiful.”

They stare at Ghostbur for a long moment, completely silent.

“Pandora’s a real person?” Tubbo asks, finally breaking the quiet.

“I think so? My memories of her they’re… Different. Where most of the moments I miss are just completely gone, the memories I have of Pandora are just… fuzzy. Hard to decipher. I have a lot of memories like that; whole years of them.” Ghostbur says, pulling a cornflower out of his bag and messing idly with the stem as he talks. “And they all feel so… important.” Ghostbur looks up suddenly, eyes locking with Ranboo, who swallows nervously. “And some of them have you in them!”

“Wh-what do you mean some of them have me in them?” Ranboo asks, frowning and breaking Ghostbur’s eye contact.

Ghostbur isn’t at all put out by this and merely keeps talking. “I dunno, just that I remember interacting with you before I died. It feels important somehow. Thinking too much about the fuzzy memories makes me sad, so I tend to avoid it,” Ghostbur chirps, leaning over and tucking the cornflower behind Ranboo’s ear. “Very pretty!”

And with that, Ghostbur is off on a different tangent entirely, leaving Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo gaping at him silently. They decide to simply leave the conversation at that, letting Ghostbur go on as they turn their attention back to the prison. It’s starting to snow softly at this point, and Ranboo thinks back to that memory again, the one of him and his dad(?) in the cottage, then pauses to consider everything Ghostbur just dropped on them.

If there’s someone out there named Pandora… Well, Dream said he had built the prison with a specific person in mind. Was it possible that the name was not a reference to the Greek myth at all, but to the woman it was meant to hold? Ranboo sighs and rubs at his temple. Thinking too hard about anything that comes out of Ghostbur’s mouth brings on a headache at the best of days, but this is somehow migraine-inducing. It raises a set of questions that Ranboo had never even thought about, and as he stares through the falling snowflakes at the structure beyond, another thought occurs to him; all his memories prior to November 16th are gone. What if Wilbur knew his parents?

It would explain the memories Ghostbur has of him before his death. Nothing solid, just a fleeting glimpse and passing association with Ranboo, but a much stronger one with his parents. He glances over at the ghost, chattering away as Tommy squints into his binoculars, before huffing and slamming them down.

“Can’t see shit in this… Guess we ought to call it a night,” Tommy says, and the others are eager to agree, to get out of the cold and back to the mansion. Ranboo thinks he’ll help Foolish build for a bit if the man’s still there.

Ranboo heads straight for bed when they reach home, with murmured goodnight to Tommy and a quick but tight hug from Tubbo. He barely manages to change into warm, comfy pajamas before flopping into bed and falling into blissful sleep.

This time with a dream, one he’s never had.

_ He’s in the cottage again, but this time it’s a bright summer morning. Ranboo leaves his room, cat winding around his ankles, yawning, and rubbing his eyes with small fists. The man in the kitchen turns and sees him walk in, chuckling under his breath. _

_ “Did you sleep well, Boo?” he asks, as Ranboo wanders into the kitchen and pulls himself onto a chair, curling the end of his tail around his ankle. _

_ Ranboo chooses to answer with his own question, asking “dad, can we have pancakes for breakfast?” _

_ His father smiles and ruffles his hair. “As long as your uncle didn’t use all the pancake batter in his sorry attempt at trying to make those fluffy Japanese pancakes.” _

_ Ranboo giggles and grins up at him. “Okay,” he responds, and his father absolutely beams at him, pride lining his face. _

_ “Well, look at that… There’s still some mix left. Pancakes it is!” _

Ranboo wakes up to a familiar, painful burning sensation on his face, and realizes he’s crying. He quickly sits up and digs out a soft cloth and a healing potion, pouring a little on the cloth and wiping haphazardly at the tear trails under his eyes.

He stares at his memory book for a moment, still sniffling softly, emotions swirling in his chest, making it tight and hard to breathe. Because somehow, he feels like that wasn’t a dream at all…

He swiftly grabs the memory book and opens it to a fresh page.


	3. Acquainted With The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS BODY HORROR IN THIS CHAPTER TOWARDS THE END. IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, SKIP THIS CHAPTER AND LET ME KNOW YOU SKIPPED IT IN THE COMMENTS, AND I WILL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED.

The days pass by, but nothing happens at the watchtower. There are no attacks on Snowchester, and the meeting that was held by the syndicate carried no news aside from the return of Ghostbur for Niki’s sake. Ranboo found himself quickly growing bored by the lack of action, which unsettled him; he’d once enjoyed the quiet, lived for every silent moment he could get his hands on. But with his anxiety spiked and adrenaline constantly running through his veins, he found that the moments where he wasn’t busy training or scouting or prepping were full of quiet hours that stretched on too long and being unable to focus on tasks he once loved.

He watched out his window for signs of movement, jumped at bumps in the night, and was more prone to panic attacks than ever. A daunting sense of foreboding crawled across his spine, and he was waiting impatiently for the moment where it all snapped loose, like a string tied too tight.

He got his wish for action in a way he never anticipated.

The invitation arrived at Tubbo’s mansion for him, Tommy, and of course Tubbo himself. It was written in careful penmanship with a rainbow pen on thick parchment encased in a thicker envelope and with a wax seal.

Tommy opens it without admiring any of this craftsmanship, of course, and swiftly unfolds the parchment within and begins to read aloud in an exaggeration of his usual accent.

“Ah-HEM!  _ To the denizens of the Mansion in Snowchester- Tommyinnit, Tubbo Underscore, and Ranboo Beloved, I would like to personally and cordially invite you to a celebration held in honor of the establishment of the Dream SMP at my palace on the Ides of March, starting at approximately 6 o’clock. Please keep in mind that this party is by invite-only, and please be sure to fit the dress code, which is black tie. Anyone without an invite or not matching the dress code will be turned away at the doors. I hope to see you there, Their Majesty King Alastair “Eret”. _ ”

“Nice call not referring to it as a festival,” Tubbo commented. “Should we go?”

“I don’t own a suit,” Tommy mutters, handing the invitation over to Ranboo for him to examine just as his communicator goes off. He checks it and sighs, “Ghostbur’s got an invite and he’s going. He seems really excited. Don’t know why; Eret’s kind of a prick.”

“You’re just still bitter about them betraying L’Manberg,” Ranboo pointed out. “And we can buy you a suit.”

Tommy merely grumbles, crossing his arms and looking away from him, but they all send Eret their RSVPs via communicator anyways before dragging Tommy towards the bulk of the SMP to find him a suit that, well… suits him. The day is spent with laughter and making fun of some of the more gaudy options and ends with ice cream and a surprisingly optimistic outlook.

The rest of the week passes by in a busy blur, until the night of arrives. Ranboo glances up in the mirror, turning briefly to get a better look at himself. The suit is probably the nicest thing he’s ever worn. The pants and white dress shirt are simple in themselves, but it’s the coat that really outshines the rest. It has long coattails and is held together by meticulously crafted gold chains. When he moves, the fabric glitters green and red against a black backdrop, and Ranboo feels both incredibly confident and sorta self-conscious. He took a deep breath and adjusted one of the clasps before heading out to the foyer, where Tommy and Tubbo were already waiting.

Tommy’s dressed in a fairly simple suit, made of dark red material, though he keeps tugging at the collar and muttering under his breath. He’s already undone all the work Tubbo did on his hair, the curls all over the place from him ruffling them and tugging at them. Tubbo is much more presentable, a simple olive green blazer over a white button-up and black slacks, and he’s pushed his hair out of his face and styled it with gel, and polished his horns till they shone.

“You two look great,” Ranboo says, grinning and trying to will away his self-conscious posture.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy mutters, but his face flushes red and Ranboo can see a little smile on his face. “You too, I guess.”

“Ranboo you look so handsome!” Tubbo squeals, reaching up to adjust his crown so it sits straighter. “Did you say goodnight to Michael yet?”

“Did it before I changed,” Ranboo confirms, and Tubbo nods. With that, they set out on the prime path towards the nearest Nether portal.

The walk is short, helped along by the trip through the Nether, and before long they find themselves in a relatively short line outside of Eret’s castle, which is lit up brilliantly in the night, the sound of chatter and distant orchestral music drifting across the gardens and over the walls. Before long, they stand before an unfamiliar, bored-looking man, and Ranboo hands over the invites. The man reads the first line, then looks up to double-check their outfits. He raises a brow at Tommy’s hair, but says nothing, setting the invite on a pile nearby and waving them in. The gardens were somewhat quiet, a handful of people wandering and chatting amongst the flowers and bushes as the three made their way up the stairs and into the foyer of the building. Standing just inside the entrance, greeting people as they came in, was Eret himself, who grinned when they saw them.

“I’m glad to see you made it, gentlemen!” He beamed, reaching out and shaking Tubbos hand, then reaching up and squeezing Ranboo’s shoulder before shooting a grin in Tommy’s direction, knowing better than to attempt to touch the teen, given everything. “I wasn’t sure you would be here tonight!”

“We RSVP’d, didn’t we?” Tommy comments, raising an eyebrow.

Eret waves him off. “Sure, but plenty of people who RSVP don’t actually show up. A certain man used to do it to me all the time, so I’ve gotten rather used to it.”

Ranboo scowls, knowing immediately who Eret is referring to, even if they avoided using his name. “You shouldn’t be; that’s unfair of him.”

Eret sighs and his face falls for a minute, briefly revealing the clear exhaustion in his expression, before perking back up, though their voice is a bit strained when he continues. “At any rate, enjoy the party! Almost everything is set up in the ballroom, but you’re free to wander the grounds and any parts of the palace that aren’t locked up.”

Another guest comes in behind them and Eret sighs almost imperceptibly before waving them on. The trio makes its way into the ballroom, which is beautifully decorated in every color of the rainbow; gradient tablecloths on the buffet, drapes of bright jewel tones hanging from the ceiling and chandeliers, teardrops of crystal that reflect the candlelight into rainbow specks around the room. People mingle and chatter, glasses of champagne and sparkling cider in hand, and Ranboo sees many faces he recognizes. Niki and Puffy, in ethereal ball gowns, chatting with Fundy, who turns and waves at them. Ghostbur zips among the crowds, sticking close to Phil and Techno, who Ranboo is more than a little surprised to see. Tommy makes a face when he spots them and bee-lines for the buffet tables, while Tubbo wanders around to mingle with Sapnap and his fiances. Phil waves Ranboo over and he does so, standing next to them. Techno’s dressed in a pair of slacks, a dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up, and a gilded vest, as well as copious amounts of gold jewelry, even adorning his pink braid. Phil is dressed in a simple three-piece suit of dark green.

“I’m glad to see you getting out more, Ranboo.” Phil comments, smiling and pulling him in for a short hug. “It’s good for you!”

“Speak for yourself… Getting out doesn’t mean ridiculous parties if you ask me…” Techno mutters, but there’s a somewhat content look on his face as he swirls around the champagne in his glass.

“Yeah, but you like dressing up, mate. You can’t deny that much.”

“Hmm,” Techno murmured, sipping from his glass, lips quirked up in a smile.

“Anyways, don’t tie yourself to us all night!” Phil says, patting Ranboo on the shoulder. “Go have some fun!”

“Thanks, Phil,” Ranboo says, before turning away and heading to join Tommy at the snack tables.

The night goes on and Ranboo finds himself enjoying the various foods that Eret had either made himself or purchased from Niki and similar vendors, trying to dance with Tubbo and failing miserably, subsequently being taught how to dance by a very excitable Ghostbur, wandering the grounds for some fresh air, and then finding himself back in the ballroom around midnight.

It was getting late, and Ranboo found himself getting tired. He wanted to go home and write down tonight’s events in his memory book. So he turned to find Tubbo and ask him if they could head out, when the music suddenly stopped, replaced by the ominous tolling of distant bells. One… Two… Three… Four… Five… On and on they rung, passing twelve and finally ending on the sixteenth toll. And then all the lights in the hall went out, one by one, plunging them into darkness.

The room fell silent, no one daring to so much as breathe too loudly. Ranboo felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, turning to see that it was only a concerned Ghostbur. He relaxed as Ghostbur squeezed his shoulder, but just as he was about to break the quiet, some of the lights came back on; but with eerie green flames, casting the entire ballroom in a glowing, neon green light. The flames chased up the candles on the banister leading down into the ballroom but left the top in shadows. Ranboo listened closely and heard… the tapping of someone’s shoes, steady and calm in the quiet, approaching the top of the stairs.

His heart sat in his throat, thundering loudly, and he watched in silent horror as a figure stepped out of the dark. Horrifically scarred, burn marks swiping down half of one face to reveal bone, the other a myriad of nicks and cuts, healed over wrong. Burning through the scarred facade was a pair of eyes that reflected the green light, dancing with a macabre light. Blond hair, artfully swept away from his face into a bun at the back of his head, tied with green ribbon. He was wearing a fine suit of green, glittery velvet, and his expression was twisted into a gruesome smile, mask resting on his belt at his hip, just barely poking out from under his suit jacket. He twisted a blood rusted netherite axe in his hands, and took a moment, taking in the expressions of horror and fear in their eyes.

“I heard there was a party…” He says, eyes turning to Eret, who was standing a little bit behind Ranboo. “What gives with my invite?”


	4. The Witch of Coos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue heavy, and also accidentally a little plot-heavy, oops-

“Leave!” Eret shouts, voice quivering with emotion. “ _Now!_ ”

Dream merely laughs, glancing down at his axe. “I don’t think so… There’s a celebration, isn’t there? And on the eve of the sixteenth, nonetheless! What exactly are you celebrating, Eret?”

Eret ignores the jab, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a knife. “I won’t ask again, Dream. You’re not welcome here.”

“In my own kingdom? My own SMP? The one _I_ built from the ground up?” Dream’s eyes flash dangerously, and the axe falls into one hand, off to his side as he meets Eret’s eyes. “Don’t be stupid.” Dream begins to walk down the stairs, not breaking his eye contact with Eret.

Eret brandishes the knife, stepping to the front of the crowd now. “I’m not. You’re no longer welcome here; you did that to yourself.”

Dream pauses right in front of the king, running his hands up the length of his axe’s handle. “Let’s see about that.” And he raises the axe high, and Ranboo can see in Eret’s eyes that they know this is death, he knows this is the end, and he turns to him and mouths _run_.

And then the axe falls with a bloody thump, and the room erupts into a panic, everyone pushing for the exits. Ranboo and Ghostbur manage to slip out one that isn’t crowded and into the gardens, sprinting for the gates. Ranboo hears his communicator go off, and he knows it’ll have a message detailing that Eret has died but he doesn’t have time to check. With Ghostbur leading the way, they make it out of the gardens and a distance away from the palace and the prime path, and Ranboo falls to his knees and empties the contents of his stomach into the grass, hands shaking. Ghostbur says nothing, merely rubs his back, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Dream isn’t following.

A few minutes later, after Ranboo has managed to sit up again, Ghostbur wrapping his body reassuringly around him like a blanket, his grip tight and cool, he hears footsteps. His head shoots up, panicked, as painful tears run down his face, but it’s Tubbo, Tommy, Phil, and Techno. It’s odd, seeing all four of his close friends together like this, but comforting at the same time.

Phil knees beside him, taking out a handkerchief and carefully drying his tears. Something about it sparks a nostalgic feeling, but Ranboo doesn’t have time to analyze his memories right now. Now they have to deal with… Him.

“How’d he get out?” Tommy asks, and Ranboo sees him glaring at Technoblade from the corner of his eye.

Technoblade, to his credit, turns and meets Tommy’s gaze dead on. “The Warden decided to stop doing his job. He stopped a while ago, really, when he let a sixteen-year-old die in an obsidian block.”

Tommy, surprised, drops Techno’s gaze. “Yeah, fair enough. Still doesn’t really answer the how though, just the why.”

“I don’t think the how matters, Tommy,” Tubbo says. “He’s out, and he’s clearly dangerous. Eret…” Tubbo’s lip quivers, and he swipes at his eyes. “Eret is proof enough of that.”

“How many lives did they have?” Phil asks, pulling back to examine Ranboo’s face as he digs through his inventory for a potion.

“He had three,” Ghostbur says, pulling away so that he’s just got an arm around Ranboo’s shoulders. “He’ll be back.”

“We need to take action, _now_ ,” Phil says, frowning. “This can’t stand any longer. Dream needs to be taken care of.”

Techno huffs softly. “Agreed. I’ve been mostly ignoring him up until this point, but it’s clear that he’s not gonna stop till he gets what he wants.”

“... What is it that he wants, anyway?” Tubbo asks, and Techno shrugs.

Tommy speaks up, saying, “power is what it seems like to me. He wants to be in control again; it’s the reason he has the knowledge from the book, the reason he-” Tommy swallows hard before continuing, “the reason he killed me.”

“What if we flipped the tables on him?” Ghostbur chirps, making the others jump. “What if we proved to him that we also had power over life and death?”

Phil pinches his nose and sighs. “Ghostbur, every time we tried that it went horribly wrong. We can’t successfully bring back Wilbur without Dream’s knowledge.”

“Hey, uh, remember me saying that bringing back Wilbur was not good? Right? That it was very, very, very fucking bad?” Tommy adds, scowling at Ghostbur.

“I know, but Wilbur stood against Dream and won! He might be able to do it again!” Ghostbur insists, frowning. “Besides, I think I accidentally found out how to get it to work.”

Tommy is about to open his mouth and argue further, but Phil interrupts, saying “what do you mean you ‘accidentally found out how to get it to work’?”

Ghostbur suddenly hesitates, looking down at his hands as he fidgets with his hands and the buttons on his suit. “I was going through some of my old journals, back at the old house and… stumbled across something I forgot.”

“Not surprising, given your memory problems,” Tubbo points out, and Ghostbur shoots him a strained smile.

“Yes but this was different. You lot know I’ve dabbled in magic, right? Since I was young?” Ghostbur says and gets nods from everyone but Rambo, who raises a brow.

“You do magic?”

Ghostbur nods, perking a bit at the chance to explain. “Green magic, mostly. Stuff to do with nature; I was particularly skilled with herbalism. Similar to potion-making, but a little broader. I would use plants to either channel power for spells, or creature magical tinctures and charms. Very useful stuff!”

“Ghostbur, herbalism, and green magic might be able to bring back a wilted rose bush, but it can’t bring back people,” Phil points out, frowning.

“But it can,” Ghostbur whispers, becoming slightly more transparent as he shrunk into himself. “I started to… experiment. Bringing back larger and more complex plants at first; fruit trees and massive fungi systems, large groups of plants all at once. It was exhausting, but the longer I did, the better I got. Until I focused more on healing creatures. Basic injuries had always been easy for me, with the help of green magic, but I worked my way up to creatures that were near death; mice who had been trapped in the snow, birds who had fallen from the sky, that sorta thing… And succeeded. They were good as new. I kept an eye on them for a while, made sure nothing weird happened. And then I studied how to bring things back from the dead… and failed. Every time.”

“Ghostbur, that’s not helpful. If you failed-” Phil begins, but Techno places a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

“Let him finish first, Philza…”

Ghostbur nods gratefully in his direction before continuation, “I failed every time until I realized how far I’d strayed from using green magic in the process. So I began to base the rituals more on nature, on tinctures and times, and life. And then, one night, I succeeded. I forgot I succeeded, because it wasn’t a good memory, the journal made that clear. I set up a small quartz altar in the woods, and placed a dead rat on it. Then I lit soulfire candles and used them to burn sage and allium, till the air was thick with smoke and my hands were covered in ash. Then I rested my fingers over it’s heart and willed it to start beating again, breathing in the smoke and as the moon hit it’s peak I felt- I felt a part of myself _die._ ” Ghostbur whispers the last word, hands shaking. “I passed out, for close to an hour. When I awoke, the rat was sitting there and staring at me. It scurried off after that, very much alive. I never tried it again.”

“Will…” Phil whispers, reaching up and taking one of Ghostbur’s hands in his own. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I-I think I was scared. Scared of what I could do, and scared of what I felt- I’m certain that to bring back a few years of the rat’s life, I had to give it some of my own life, a few of my own years.”

They gape at Ghostbur for a long moment before Tubbo speaks, asking “Ghostbur, what you’re asking is… a lot.”

“Well, Phil’s immortal,” Tommy points out. “What if he did it?”

Ghostbur shakes his head. “I’m effectively immortal too, and I was never quite as physically strong after that. It wasn’t super noticeable, but there are still effects.”

“How do you remember all this?” Ranboo asks, frowning.

“I recorded a lot of it in the journals at the time, I was very careful about what happened after,” Ghostbur mutters. “But there’s still a way.”

“So, wait, how is this different from Dream’s book?” Techno asks, raising a brow.

“I’m not sure. Dream’s book seems to be something completely different, a totally different discipline of magic, perhaps,” Ghostbur suggests. “But I wonder…” he hesitates, glancing down at the grass. “If someone could give up one of their lives if that would be enough to complete the ritual? I don’t have any true life left in me, so that wouldn’t work, but it would mean that whoever gave the life would be permanently short one. I don’t think a totem would work either.”

The group was silent, staring at Ghostbur in thoughtful silence before Ranboo spoke up. “I’ll do it.”

Everyone turned and stared at him. “Ranboo, you sure?” Techno asks, voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Tubbo turns to him, eyes wide with surprise. “No one’s expecting you to do anything like that, Ranboo,” Tubbo says gently.

Ranboo gives him a small smile. “I know. I want to. But… There is something I’d like in return.”

“Of course!” Ghostbur chirps. “Anything at all.”

“And if Wilbur goes back on that word,” Tommy says, “we’ll be sure to hold him to it.”

Ranboo takes a deep breath and nods. “You mentioned that you had vague memories of me, before I died… I’ve been having weird dreams, about… I think about my father. I want to find out about him, who he was, who my mother was… I want to know about my past and why my memory is awful. And I think you could help me. That’s all I ask; that you help me find my past.”

Ghostbur nods, determined. “Absolutely. I’d love to help, actually. Maybe I’ll remember those hazy memories once I come back!”

Phil sighs and runs a hand down his face. “This may end poorly, but it’s the best we have. We ought to get started and I have a feeling I know where.”

Ghostbur purses his lips, expression clouding. “We’ll need Wilbur’s corpse.”


	5. Home Burial

Wilbur Soot’s grave sits a little ways away from the pit that was once L’manberg, between the rubble and whatever remains of Pogtopia. It’s marked by a simple stone tombstone, Wilbur’s full name and date of death carved into it;  _ Wilbur Aurelian Soot, Died November 16th, 2020. Brother to some, Leader to many. Rest In Peace.  _ A flower had been planted nearby, a blue orchid, it’s petals swaying gently in the evening breeze. Just next to the orchid is a small L’manberg flag, that looks relatively new; replaced recently, perhaps?

Phil kneels in front of the tombstone for a moment, running his fingers along the name, face tight with emotion. “Aurelian…” He murmurs. “Latin for gold. I always thought it suited him.”

“It did,” Techno agrees, and turns and smiles at Ghostbur, expression surprisingly soft. “It still kinda does.”

Ghostbur beams at the hybrid then turns to Phil. “I always really liked the name; I sometimes introduced myself with it, to people I didn’t think I would see again.”

Phil chuckles softly and opens his mouth to say something when Tommy, clearly anxious, interrupts him. “Aren’t we here for a reason?”

Phil sighs and stands, resting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Easy, mate. Everything will be fine.”

Tommy huffs and turns away, frowning. “You weren’t in the void with Wilbur… I still think this is going to be a bad idea. It’ll only end in disaster.” Tommy turns and scowls at them. “How do you know he won’t just join Dream again?”

They’re all quiet for a moment before Ranboo finds the courage to speak. “With luck, he’ll be combined with Ghostbur when we do this, which means he’ll have all of the good things too. That should be enough to keep him on our side.”

Tommy’s face softens, and he mutters, “alright. Okay. I trust you, at least.”

Ghostbur grins and clasps his hands together. “Perfect! Let’s get digging!”

Even with their enchanted weapons, the six-foot dig was slow going. It felt like hours had passed when they finally hit the pinewood box that Wilbur had been buried in. They dug a little way around it, then Techno and Phil jumped into the grave and lifted the coffin out, setting it carefully on the ground before crawling out. They hesitated, for a long moment, watching Ghostbur lay out the canvas they would wrap the body in, humming softly as he did so. Finally, Techno took the plunge and ripped the top of the coffin out, peering inside.

Wilbur’s body was… shockingly normal. Maybe it was the cold of the place they had buried him, maybe it had something to do with his skill in green magic, but the body wasn’t decomposed. Pale and cold and stiff, maybe, but whole. He had been buried in his L’manberg uniform, and it had been cut in the back to finally pull his wings out, long since bound and hidden after he injured the right so badly they were left unusable. He looked almost… angelic. Young, innocent, forever memorialized as a hero and a leader, not as the broken, ill man he had been prior to his death.

“I was expecting… something else,” Ranboo muttered, frowning down at the body and trying to ignore the flutterings of familiarity.

“Honestly, so was I!” Ghostbur says, leaning curiously over his own corpse. There was something almost funny about it, watching Ghostbur gently tug at the wings with a peculiar expression on his face, and Ranboo had to suppress a smile. “Alright, I’ve already had Foolish build an altar a little ways away from here, so we can start right away.”

“Right now?!” Tommy sputtered. “B-But-!”

Ghostbur sets him with a firm look. “The moon’s peak is in a few hours. If we work quickly, we can bring me back and start on the plan to take down Dream tonight!”

Ranboo looks between the two, Tommy puffing up with anger and Ghostbur standing firm, a frown on his face. Finally, he sighs and turns to Tommy. “If you don’t wanna do this, we don’t have to.”

Tommy hesitates, glancing between his friends and sighing. “It’s just… Wilbur told me twice that he wanted to stay dead. He seemed to think that all the problems on the SMP had been caused by him and that him being dead was the best possible outcome. It feels wrong, disobeying that wish.”

“We can always send him back,” Techno jokes, and Phil swats him alongside the head, but the statement seems to calm Tommy a bit.

“Guess you’re right…” he mutters, before sighing loudly. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Wilbur’s body is carefully lifted out of the coffin and laid out on the canvas tarp, which is wrapped around him, and then used to haul the body up, which Techno rests over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Ghostbur makes a face at him, but says nothing and leads the way into the nearby woods. The moonlight is the only thing illuminating their path, and an owl flies overhead, briefly spooking Ranboo and causing him to dive for protection behind tiny little Tubbo, who laughs and pats him on the shoulder before taking his hand in his own. The action is calming and familiar, and Ranboo relaxes a bit after that, squeezing Tubbo’s hand softly.

They walk for several more minutes till they come to a large clearing. In the middle is a sort of podium, an altar, of quartz that glows softly in the moonlight. There’s a chest off to one side, and candles and lanterns are positioned all around the clearing, each made with or including added soul sand. Ghostbur trots up the altar and pulls off a note, reading it softly, before smiling and tucking it into one of the chests.

“Alright! Techno, put my body on the altar while I light all the candles!” Ghostbur chirps, and Techno does so, setting the wrapped corpse on the quartz before gently taking away the canvas tarp and revealing the body beneath, hands somehow still folded against his chest.

Ghostbur runs around and lights the soulfire lanterns and candles, better lighting the clearing though leaving it washed in a strange blue light. He sees Techno visibly tense, but he calms after Phil reaches up and rests a hand on his shoulder. Then, everyone turns to look at the corpse resting before them.

“What now?” Tommy asks, shifting from foot to foot.

Ghostbur smiles at him and raises a hand, before reaching into the chest and retrieving two bundles of flowers; one of allium, and one of sage. He gestures to Ranboo to step up beside the altar, and hands him both bundles of flowers. Ranboo’s hands are shaking as he takes them.

“Remember, you have to burn them completely,” Ghostbur says, “otherwise the ritual will fail and you’ll be badly hurt.”

Ranboo nods and takes a deep breath as Ghostbur steps away, and Ranboo sets the bundles alight, letting them burn in his hands, inhaling the smoke and trying his best not to panic as the soulfire licks across the greenery, and he waits and watches, shivering, as the plants are reduced to a fine ash that covers and heats his hands. He turns to Wilbur’s body and takes his hands off his chest, laying them to his side, and places his hands over his heart. And focuses… He thinks hard about the chest beneath him rising and falling, the heart beating under his hands, wings shifting and feathers fluttering softly. Red eyes, blinking open and meeting his own.

And then there’s a searing pain, and Ranboo cries out as the moon hits the top of the clearing, and he feels his life leave his body, and just as he falls back, the last of the light draining from him, those red eyes are wide with horror as Wilbur sits up and flings himself off the altar, and he feels himself falling into open arms before everything goes dark.


	6. Blueberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes it is me, disaster bisexual here to fix your cliffhanger problem... 
> 
> The next couple of chapters are going to be shorter, but they get long again soon so there's that. Enjoy.

When Ranboo comes back to himself it’s nearly sunrise, and he’s in Phil’s house, and he’s pretty sure he’s in Phil’s bed. Voices drift up from below, and he catches snippets of conversation-

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He’s got three lives, Tubbo, he’ll be okay.”

“What if you’re wrong? You’ve never done this before, and what if you have three lives and he has none and-”

“Tubbo, mate, quit panicking. He’ll be back; we’ve got to have faith, now more than ever.”

“Yeah, Tubbo, chill. He’ll be alright. I… I trust Wilbur if no one else does.”

“Ironic, given that just a few hours ago you were saying that I shouldn't even be brought back.”

“Wha- you told me you didn’t want to be brought back!”

Ranboo sits up and refocuses himself as the voices blur together as they talk over one another. He rubs his head; he feels awful, pained and a little sick. He wonders if it’s always like this, losing a life. He forces himself to sit up, and that’s not too hard, so he wills his body to stand. The room sways for a moment when he does, and he reaches out and steadies himself on the end table, sighing in relief when the world swiftly comes back into focus.

He quickly checks to make sure he’s dressed (it’s PJs, but whatever) and makes his way down to the basement where the whole group is gathered in front of the fireplace. Tubbo is half asleep on the edge of the couch, and Phil is making breakfast with Techno’s help while Tommy argues with a man that is both familiar and unfamiliar, frowning and tapping his foot.

Wilbur Soot is no longer in his L’manberg uniform, nor is he dressed the way Ghostbur was. Instead he’s dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans with combat boots and a warm wool cardigan. He has circular glasses and a simple blue beanie. He’s also currently trying to talk over Tommy, raising and pitching his voice in a rather childish imitation of Tommy’s own. And as Ranboo looked at him, all he could feel was a shocking sense of comfort and familiarity and home, and just as he stepped on the last stair and opened his mouth to say something, he passed out again, collapsing on the stone floor as the others shouted with alarm.

_ Ranboo sniffled as his father worked to gently clean the dirt and rocks out of his scraped knee, tutting softly under his breath. His hands were soft, and the potion on the cloth was cool, but it still hurt and Ranboo was fighting back tears, unwilling to be in even more pain. Soft red eyes glanced up at him, a mirror of one of his own, and his father reached up and cupped his face. _

_ “It’ll be okay, Boo…” he said, voice soft and gentle. “I promise.” _

_ “M’kay…” Ranboo said, sniffling and wiping his nose with his sleeve. His father gave him a chastising look for the action, but merely shaked his head and finished cleaning up the wound. When he pulled the cloth away, the wound had healed over. It still stung a bit, where the scrape had once been, but it was much better. _

_ His father nodded approvingly and stood, smiling down at him. “Say… Grandad said that he saw some blueberries near the edge of the woods. Why don’t we go pick some?” _

_ Ranboo brightens considerably at that. “M’kay!” he hops off the chair and takes his father’s hand, allowing himself to be lead out of the cottage. _

_ “Dad?” he asks, as they step into the bright sunshine. _

_ “Yes, boo?” his father responds, turning to look at him, bright sun shining through his brunette curls. _

_ “I love you!” Ranboo says, grinning up at him and showing off a missing tooth. _

_ His father’s expression melts, and he kneels down and cups Ranboo’s face in his hands. “I love you, too, Ranboo.” Wilbur whispers, pulling him in for a tight hug. “More than you will ever know.” _

When Ranboo comes back to consciousness, he sees Wilbur sitting in the chair next to his bed, knitting a scarf. That in itself tries to jog several memories at once, but Ranboo forces them back. He’s already got a killer headache, and a head full of many forgotten memories suddenly swimming around. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to sort through them, to figure out what he suddenly remembers and what he doesn’t; he remembers most of his childhood. Growing up in a little cottage near the sea, with most of his family nearby, being raised by a very stressed, tired, but devoted single dad. He remembers leaving, he remembers coming to the area that would one day be L’manberg, and then- blank. Everything from that point on till the 16th of November and Wilbur’s final death is simply gone. There are gaps in his childhood too; for example, he remembers asking his dad about his mother, and then the rest of that day is gone.

It’s incredibly frustrating, and he wants to tear at his hair. He reaches up to possibly do so, but before he can get anywhere close, a gentle hand falls onto his wrist and stops him. He looks up, and Wilbur is looking down at him, eyes wide with concern, and…

Ranboo just bursts into tears and throws himself into his arms, sobbing.

Wilbur strokes his hair and holds him tight through the pain, murmuring soft words of comfort, “I’m here, Boo… Dad’s here…” “I’m not leaving… Never again… I’m here…”

Finally, the tears subside enough for Ranboo to speak. “How did I… how  _ could  _ I forget… I…”

“It wasn’t your fault, love…” Wilbur whispers, arms loosening only the slightest bit as he pulled back so he could look Ranboo in the face. “I forgot too.”

Ranboo simply hiccups and buries his face in his shoulder. “Do you still have Ghostbur’s memories?” he asks, dreading the answer.

“I do. I- I don’t know how those memories got lost as Ghostbur.” Wilbur pulls back, face hardening. “But I know I’m going to find out. I made a promise, remember?”

Ranboo sniffles and nods, lips tugged up in a smile, and Wilbur stands and helps him to his feet as they head out back to the basement. Everyone looks up, expressions tight with worry, and Ranboo mutters, “I’m okay.”

Phil sighs in relief. “Good. I’m just glad Wilbur moved so fast to catch you; I think he was about to have a heart attack.”

Wilbur sputters slightly. “Of course I was about to have a heart attack! How would you react if I just passed out?!”

“Well you used to pass out all the time as a teenager, so probably with much less fear,” Phil points out.

“Adopted Ranboo like the rest of us already, Wil?” Techno jokes, leaning back against the wall with a smirk.

Wilbur turns and stares at him for a long minute. “Adopted? I mean- no reason for me to, given that Ranboo’s my biological son.”

This statement is met with empty and shocked expressions, everyone silent and staring openly at them. Ranboo finds himself shifting his position so he’s just being Wilbur who blinks back at them.

“Wilbur… are you sure? I don’t think-” Phil begins, but Wilbur quickly scoffs and waves him off.

“Yes, I’m sure! Dad, you helped me raise him! How do you not-” Wilbur begins, breaking off as the others continue to stare at him. “Oh, fucking hell…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... With another cliffhanger. Read and weep.


	7. The Rose Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. No real cliffhanger. There is a blizzard where I live, despite it being the Spring Equinox. Stay safe all.

“So you two are telling me that you have a bunch of memories back, memories in which you are father and son, but the rest of us don’t remember that at all?” Techno summarizes. “Oh, that’s fun…”

Wilbur looks like he’s on the border of simply exploding with rage and crying. “Yes! I don’t know why only Ranboo and I remember, but it’s the _truth_!”

“Wilbur, calm down, I believe you,” Tubbo says, raising a hand placidly. “But why don’t the rest of us remember?”

“I don’t know-” Wilbur chokes out, clearly frustrated. “But I have the feeling it’s nothing good.”

“Enough about this- we’ll figure out the memory problem later. We’ve got a bigger one on the horizon, y’know, the reason we brought Wilbur back in the first place?” Phil says, raising a brow at the rest of them.

“Right, I nearly forgot about Dream…” Ranboo mutters, suppressing a shiver. “Speaking of, there’s… something I should tell you guys. And it’s not good.”

And so, hesitantly, he launches into an explanation of the voice in his head, and by the end of it he’s terrified that they’ll all immediately turn him away, but all he sees from them is… sympathy, and worry. Wilbur tugs him into a tight hug without saying something, and Ranboo closes his eyes and leans into it for a moment before forcing himself to pull away.

“Dream might be connected to all this memory stuff…” Tommy muses, scratching his chin.

“Dream seems to have at least one grubby finger in every plot on the SMP,” Techno snorts, rolling his eyes.

Just as Phil opens his mouth to add something, there’s a knock at the door. Everyone goes quiet, exchanging nervous looks. Did they answer it? What was the chance it was Dream, or a trap planned by him?

A few seconds passed by while they all stood silently, holding their breaths and waiting for something to happen. Finally, Wilbur’s communicator went off, breaking the quiet. Hands shaking slightly, he opened it and sighed, shoulders slumping as all the tension left them. “It’s Eret. Dream’s kicked them out of their castle, _again_.”

“Wait-” Techno says, eyes narrowing. “Should we let him in? He’s government.”

“Techno you were just at their party,” Tubbo points out, frowning.

“He did also say he was into mild anarchy,” Phil shrugs. “Besides, they were Dream’s right-hand man for a time; they might know something that’ll help us defeat him.”

Wilbur nods and sends Eret a quick message through the communicator before heading upstairs, Ranboo at his heels. Neither says anything, but they can both agree that there’s a level of separation anxiety there. Wilbur opens the door to see Eret on the porch, shivering slightly as he pulls his cloak tighter around himself. 

“You lot got room for one more-“ Eret breaks off as he gets his first good look at Wilbur.

“Holy shit…” they mutter, eyebrows raising. “ _Will_?” They barely breathe his name, as though afraid of breaking an unspoken silence.

“The very same,” Wilbur gives him a tight smile, but his expression breaks after a moment and he pulls Eret into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, old friend…”

They stand there for a long moment before Wilbur laughs and pulls him into the warmth of the house and out of the snow. One of the dogs, lying near the door, chuffs softly at Eret but doesn’t bother getting up. Eret leans down and scratches his ears. Satisfied, the dog lays its head back down and drifts into sleep. They make their way downstairs, and almost as soon as they make it into the basement, Tubbo throws himself into Eret’s arms, sobbing.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” Tubbo sobs, gripping at the edges of his cloak. “I thought you’d died before I could ever apologize.”

Eret drops to their knees and tugs him in for a hug. “You have nothing to apologize for, Tubbo. Besides, I’ve still got a good bit of life left in me.”

“Glad to hear it, mate,” Phil says, nodding in his direction. “But we aren’t gathered here for apologies. We’re here to deal with Dream.”

“Speaking of, it’s not good,” Eret muttered, brow knit. “Dream’s got the castle, and he’s managed to sway several people to his side already; George, Punz, and Alyssa have already defected to his side.”

“Shit,” Wilbur murmurs, pushing a hand through his curls. “So he’s already got power on his side… Did he say anything regarding me coming back?”

“Don’t think he knows yet, but I imagine you don’t intend for it to stay that way for long,” Eret frowns, before perking up. “There is something I can offer, that might be of help.”

“Anything,” Ranboo says, nodding.

“Back when he first commissioned Sam to build the prison, I remember him telling me that he had a specific name in mind; Pandora’s Vault. I questioned him about it in regards to the Greek myth, and… He just kind of looked at me, and smirked, then said ‘who said I was referring to the myth?’ And… I think Pandora was who the prison was built for.”

Tommy turns to Wilbur. “You mentioned, as Ghostbur, that you remembered someone named Pandora. And you’ve got a bunch of weird memories and shit back! Do you remember more?”

“That’s all still fuzzy,” Wilbur says. “I don’t know- I barely remember the name alone, let alone anything specific.” Wilbur turns to Eret and says, “speaking of memories; do you remember anything about Ranboo prior to the day I…” he pauses and takes a deep breath, fists clenching at his side before swallowing hard and finishing, “I blew up L’manberg?”

“I… Almost? I dunno. I’ve always thought there was more about him I was missing but… Nothing in particular comes to mind. Sorry Wilbur, and Ranboo,” Eret dips their head towards them with a small frown.

“It’s okay. At least now we have a starting point, and maybe a leg up.”

Techno nods in agreement, “find out who the hell Pandora is and why she’s so important.”

“Where do we even start with that information?” Tubbo asks, looking up from where another dog has materialized, currently getting belly scratches from Tubbo. “The only person who seems to know anything about her is Dream.”

Tommy suddenly scowls. “Well, there might be one person. Boys, I think we ought to pay Sam a visit.”

Eret nods. “You do that. In the meantime, I’m going to try and regather a resistance to help take the castle back; there are too many resources there to simply give it back. Best of luck, gentlemen.”


	8. The Oven Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, plot progression! Also, a little bit longer than the last one, I think. Enjoy!

“Yeah, actually, I do know what you’re talking about.” Sam says, glancing up from his work on the spot of the roof where it appeared that Dream had escaped. “In fact, that was his next task for me; to hunt down the person he wanted in the prison. Never said their name, but the rest of us in Dream’s little crew at the time, mercenary or otherwise, kinda figured out pretty quickly that she was named Pandora. Didn’t know anything about her, other than that she was powerful and located a long, long ways away.”

Wilbur blinked at him for a long moment before asking, “did he give you coordinates?”

“Not to her exact location; even Dream didn’t know that. Instead, he gave me the location of the last place he’d known her to be near. It was a tiny little village about a week away.”

“Send me the coordinates,  _ now _ .” Wilbur snapped and for a minute it seemed like Sam was going to argue, but ultimately he sighed and pulled out his communicator. A few moments later, Wilbur’s dinged and he picked it up and nodded, handing the communicator over to Ranboo for examination.

Ranboo sighed as he looked at the screen; Sam was right, those coords were a long, long way out. And chances were high that Dream was already ahead of them on sending someone there. He glances up, making eye contact with his father.

“C’mon, let’s relay this to the others. Thanks again, Sam.”

“Yup. Stay safe.”

Ranboo and Wilbur head back through the portal, silent as they headed out into the nether. It was quiet, and nothing spawned around them, but Ranboo could see his father’s shoulders were tense and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. He debated simply leaving him alone and letting him stew for a bit, but thought better of it, jogging up to catch up with him. Wilbur barely seemed to notice, lost in his own world, until Ranboo curled his tail around his wrist. Wilbur finally stopped walking and turned to look at his concerned son, whose head was tilted to one side like a sad puppy dog. The sight made him smile a little, and he reached up and adjusted Ranboo’s crown so it wouldn’t fall.

“I’m alright, Boo…” Wilbur muttered, but Ranboo merely frowned back at him.

“It’s okay not to be,” Ranboo says, uncurling his tail and taking one of his father’s calloused hands into his own. “You spent the equivalent of, what was it? Nine years, in the void, with  _ Schlatt _ . Anyone would be a little unsettled by that, not to mention the whole dying and coming back and being a ghost thing. And… I don’t remember what happened in L’manberg, but from what I’ve been told, you… weren’t doing so hot before your death.”

Wilbur smiles, but it quavers and falls swiftly. He sighs and adjusts his wings a bit. That was another thing; Ranboo hadn’t seen him even attempt to take flight since he came back, and from what he remembered as a child, that in itself was extremely odd. Wilbur had loved flying, loved the feeling of freedom and the wind through his hair and ruffling his soft, tawny feathers. He recalled many times when his father had, at his own request, scooped him up and went soaring into the sky. Ranboo had felt like he could see the entire world below him, and when he had asked Wilbur if he would have wings of his own, Wilbur had smiled and brushed a lock of monochrome hair from his forehead and told him that if he didn’t, he could always borrow his.

“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to give life advice, Ranboo?” Wilbur quips as he continues to walk.

“I mean, isn’t that kind of a stereotype?” Ranboo shoots back, and that gets a genuine smile out of Wilbur. “I’m allowed to be worried about you, too.”

Wilbur pauses and looks at him, then sighs again. “To tell the truth I’ve… been better. I still have those parts of me that went… off the deep end. The not-so-good things I said and did, especially regarding Tommy. And then there are my wings...” Wilbur shakes his head and stretches his wings out for a moment, looking longingly at the open space above the lava pools and the soul sand valley in the distance. 

“You could try it,” Ranboo says. “They might have healed.”

Wilbur glances back at Ranboo, then at his right wing, and sighs. “Not here. Don’t want to jump off the path only to fall to my unceremonious death in a lava pit.”

Ranboo laughs. “Fair enough. C’mon, let’s hurry back; the others are waiting, and I have a feeling we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Wilbur agrees, and they make their way through a nearby portal to the overworld.

They gather in the watchtower this time, eyes scanning over the prison. Eret’s keeping watch, binoculars raised to his eyes as he turns to look at the area around them, keeping a silent eye out for trouble. Everyone’s alert, clear from the way Phil and Wilbur’s wings are fluffed up, the tapping of Tommy’s fingers on the wood, the way Tubbo and Techno’s ears flick, and Ranboo’s tail swishes behind him.

“A journey of this scale might take months,” Phil points out, frowning. “Even if we do arrive at the village within a few weeks, that was only the last known sighting. We could be tracking this woman, Pandora, across the overworld for up to a year and never find her.”

“Couldn’t we just take Dream on ourselves? We’ve got the manpower, and we were all planning on it anyways,” Techno points out, running a finger along the flat of his blade.

“Dream’s got something we don’t have,” Wilbur points out. “He can bring people back from the dead, without consequence to himself. We might be able to bring people back, but for us, it’s… costly. With that, he could effectively kill people and raise them back up, using this to bind them to him. He could easily form an army.”

“Plus there’s the egg,” Tubbo says. “Before he was corrupted, Bad seemed to think it was connected to Dream in some way. He could very well use that connection to use the egg as a weapon, too. And I don’t think we’d stand a chance against that.”

“Love the positive thinking, guys,” Eret comments, placing their binoculars down and turning to them.

“Do you have any better ideas, wise guy?” Tommy shoots back.

“Never said I did,” Eret shrugs, taking a moment to examine their nails. “I’m with Will, the best chance we have at taking down Dream is by utilizing the one person who intimidates him the most. We need to find Pandora.”

“We’ll do a vote, then,” Wilbur says, nodding. “Democracy, right? All in favor of taking on Dream by ourselves, say aye.”

“Aye,” Techno says, though no one else joins him.

“That settles it. Pack up, and we’ll meet up in Snowchester tomorrow morning. We have a long, long journey ahead of us.”

The others slowly separate, heading for their individual homes to prep gear and food and resources, till only Ranboo, Wilbur, and Phil remain on top of the watchtower. Wilbur closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being up high again, and Phil shakes his head softly.

“You could probably manage it, mate…” He says softly.

“Could I?” Wilbur whispers, opening his eyes. “Or would I just fall again?”

Phil shakes his head softly. “You’ll never know if you don’t try. I’ll see you in the morning.” Phil climbs onto the ledge and pushes himself off, spreading his own wings wide as he heads north for the tundra he calls home, wingbeats growing faint as he soars away.

Ranboo watches him go for a moment, then tugs gently on his father’s wrist with his tail. “Let’s head back to Snowchester. You can stay in one of the guest rooms. C’mon.”

Wilbur smiles at him softly, though it’s strained, and follows him down the tower towards the portal.


	9. Fire and Ice

“So you and Tubbo are platonic husbands?” Wilbur asks as they make their way from Snowchester towards the nearest nether portal.

“Mhm! We eloped, so there wasn’t a ceremony or anything that you missed,” Ranboo says, swinging the hand gripped tight in Tubbo’s.

“Didn’t feel right without Tommy there,” Tubbo said, pulling a face. “But we might do something now that he’s back.”

“That’d be nice,” Wilbur murmurs, glancing up and smiling. “Never saw myself as the type to get married, platonic or romantic. Settling down was never really my style; plenty of people I had relationships with, sure, but… never anyone I could envision myself spending my life with.”

Ranboo barks out a laugh. “Fair enough! I think I came to terms with that pretty young, I don’t really remember being the kind of kid who would beg for another parent.”

“You weren’t; you asked about your mom a bit, but other than that you were pretty satisfied with me as your only parent.”

“You still don’t remember anything about her, then?” Ranboo asks, glancing off to the side.

Wilbur sighs and runs a hand through his curls, screwing them up further. “I really don’t. It’s like there’s a block on those memories; sorry, Boo.”

“God, it’s so fucking weird knowing that you two are related…” Tommy pulls a face, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t even know Ranboo until like a month or so ago. Or, longer, I guess, since I was stuck in…  _ there _ .”

The group is washed over with a pervasive silence at the mention of the prison, though Wilbur is quick to break the quiet. “I still don’t know how none of you remember; all of you were there for most of Ranboo’s childhood.”

“Yeah, Tommy used to chase me with a stick,” Ranboo snorts, grinning at the memory. “Right up until I pushed him in the cattle trough. That stopped that real quick.”

Phil smiles and pats Ranboo on the back. “We’ll figure it all out soon, mate. I promise.”

“Tell us more about your marriage with Tubbo!” Eret chirps. “There’s got to be more to it!”

“Taxes,” Tubbo and Ranboo say at the same time, and most of them laugh as Technoblade whoops.

“That’s my anarchist brotherly-student figure!” He yells, pumping a fist into the air.

“Hmmm, that’s not a bad reason to get married, actually…” Wilbur mumbles, then says, “hey Eret?”

“What’s up?”

“Wanna get married for tax purposes?”

Eret turns and raises an eyebrow at Wilbur. “Wilbur, I’m the king. I collect the taxes.”

“Exactly.”

Eret rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother suppressing his smile. “... maybe.”

“What if I made a ring?” Wilbur shoots back.

Eret makes a show of considering it, scratching his chin and pursing their lips. “Tell you what; if you make it with gemstones in the color and pattern of the bisexual pride flag and more than 3 karats, I’ll say yes.”

Wilbur nods. “Deal!”

“Sweet, two dads!” Ranboo says, and the group laughs as the last of the dark atmosphere lifts, just as they come up to the portal. “Alright, short people first!”

Tubbo looks like he wants to argue, but a small smirk comes across his face as he turns to Phil, a devilish glint in his eyes. “You heard him, Phil- short people first!”

Phil glowers at Tubbo, “oh you mother fuck-”

Before he can finish the sentence Technoblade has shoved him into the portal and he’s gone, leaving everyone else howling with laughter as they head in after him, finding him sitting next to the portal pouting, wings fluffed up, which only incites more loud laughter. They somehow manage to pull themselves together to begin making their way through the nether, heading for the furthest portal out and exchanging stories as they walk; Ranboo and Wilbur mostly from Ranboo’s childhood, and the others from times about L’manberg for Ranboo’s sake. 

But as they walk, Ranboo tries to ignore a foreboding thought in the back of his mind; they’re fighting Dream, right? And Dream is the voice in his head. And he’s pretty sure that the voice in his head has something to do with his enderwalking… What if, in the process of taking down Dream, he manages to get control of him?

He glances over at Tubbo, still gripping his hand as he goes on about something Michael did the other day. At Technoblade, reaching out and plucking loose feathers from Phil’s wings when he isn’t looking. At Phil, listening to Tubbo talk with an odd expression on his face, not even noticing Techno preening his wings. At Eret, who is debating the merits of marriage with Wilbur. At Wilbur, gesturing as he talks, wings slightly opened and almost pushing Tommy off the path. At Tommy, pushing at Wilbur’s wings and cursing at the taller man. And all he can think about is… what if he hurts them? What if something happens and he’s responsible for one of them dying,  _ permanently? _

He swallows hard and tries to dismiss those thoughts. He wouldn’t hurt them, they’re his family. He grew up with these people; picked blueberries with Phil, played tag with Tommy, explored the woods with Tubbo, got piggyback rides from Eret, learned history from Techno, and of course… he was raised by Wilbur. He wouldn’t hurt them… right?

“Say, Eret, how did taking back the castle go?” Phil asks.

Techno turns and raises an eyebrow at him. “Given that he’s here, with us, isn’t the answer obvious?”

Eret waves him off. “Actually, by the time I got back, Fundy had pretty much already booted them out on his own.”

“Ha! I knew he was a good kid!” Wilbur says, grinning.

“... except for the part where he burned L’manberg’s flag to the ground…” Tommy mutters, and Wilbur gives him a small shove.

“Yeah, and Eret sold us out to Dream and here we are now. People change, Tommy. All of us here are proof enough of that.” Wilbur points out.

Tommy turns red and shrugs, turning to look back out at the nether as they approach the final portal in the area surrounding the Greater Dream SMP. But their path is blocked by a familiar face.

“Not a step further…” Niki says, soft voice surprisingly authoritative.

They stare at her for a long moment, shocked, before Wilbur steps forward. “Niki… It’s just me and the others. It’s Wilbur- I know you’re probably still mad at me but-”

“What did I just say?” she hisses, turning to Wilbur.

Wilbur freezes, hands raised defensively. “What’s this about?”

Niki purses her lips and adjusts her grip on her sword. “This is about revenge and… and a promise. I was told I’d have what I wanted, and I will not allow you or anyone else to get in my way!”

Wilbur takes a deep breath, trying desperately to reign in his turmoil of emotions. “And what is it you want, Niki?”

Niki seems to falter as she meets his eyes, as though realizing for the first time that the man in front of her is no apparition, no phantom. But she swiftly steels herself and looks Wilbur in the eyes. “I want Tommy dead. And I want you to hand over the enderboy-” she raises her sword, pointing it towards Tommy, and Wilbur sees red.

“ _ No _ .” He hisses, the emotions finally boiling over. “I will NOT let anyone else hurt my little brother and you nor anyone else will  _ ever  _ lay a hand on my son.”

Niki’s eyes widen, and for just a moment it seems like she’s going to back down. Then she raises the sword again. “I’m sorry, Wilbur.”

And she lunges forward. But before she can take more than a few steps, Wilbur’s wings snap open and he lifts himself off the ground in one powerful beat, raising his bow and…

He strikes her in the chest, directly in the heart, and all their communicators go off as one as Niki falls to the ground, hand clutching at the arrow protruding from her still chest. Wilbur hovers a minute more, powerful wing beats echoing around the cavern, and as Ranboo looks up to meet his eyes, he feels his blood freeze over. Wilbur’s expression is… terrifying. It is cold and calculated, but there’s something wild in the center of his eyes, something so clearly off…

Wilbur lands and steps over Niki’s body, not bothering to even move it out of the path. He doesn’t turn around when he says, “it’s over. Let’s keep moving.” His voice sounds distant and almost… lilting. Ranboo suppresses a shiver as they all follow Wilbur through the portal, and he tries not to look down at the body of someone he thought he could trust.


	10. A Time to Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda starting to run out of steam on this, so don't be surprised if a few days go by where there's no new chapters. For now, enjoy your angst and flashback, as a treat. Also, quick note, Ranboo's panic attacks are based off my own personal experience, and not everyone experiences them this way- each person is different, and thus each writer will write Ranboo differently, including Ranboo himself!

When they come out of the portal, it’s nearing night. Just behind them is the Badlands, or the remnants of it, almost completely absorbed by the egg. Most of them make a face when they see it, and begin to walk, following Wilbur’s steady pace. No one tries to speak, the image of what just happened still playing in their minds.

By the time they are far enough that there are no lingering blood vines around, the sun has set fully and the moon is out. Wilbur manages to find a relatively sheltered spot between a few rocks, and everyone sighs with relief and pretty much throws themselves down on the ground. Unspoken, Phil and Techno head off in search of firewood, and the others set up tents or sleeping bags. Wilbur, however, wanders out of the alcove and into the starlight. Ranboo watches him for a moment and hesitates, the memory of Wilbur’s expression as he hovered above Niki’s body still frozen in his mind. But he sees the way his father hunches over in defeat, pulling his knees to his chest and making himself small, and he thinks back to all the times his father comforted him as a child…

_Ranboo is fourteen and he’s terrified. He doesn’t know why he’s afraid; he’s at home, in the cottage with the sea lapping gently upon the nearby shore. It’s a clear night, a full moon, and Ranboo has every reason to feel as safe as he possibly can. But he doesn’t feel safe; he feels like his heart is beating out of his chest and he can’t breathe and he’s crying and it all hurts so bad and before he can stop himself he’s crying out and-_

_“Dad! Dad, I need you!” He manages to choke out between his sobs, and he hears footsteps come across the main room, and the door opens, and Wilbur is suddenly just_ there _and he’s wrapping Ranboo up tight in his arms._

_“It’s okay, Boo… Dad’s here. I’ve got you.”_

_“I-I can’t breath and the tears hurt so bad and-”_

_“Shh… It’s just a panic attack, Ranboo. You’ve just gotta let it pass. Match your breathing to mine, c’mon…”_

_Ranboo tries his best to focus on the steady rise and fall of his father’s chest, and several minutes pass by before he begins to calm. The tears stop and his heart slows and his breathing begins to return to normal. A part of him is embarrassed at being coddled by his father; the slightly angsty teenager who wants freedom and independence. But the greater part of him, the part who’s entire face burns with the remnants of his tears, the part that only wants to drift back to sleep, ignores the teenaged part of him, and rests his head on Wilbur’s shoulder, and begins to drift off into sleep._

Ranboo takes a deep breath and pushes the memory aside before approaching his father, trying his best to force his usually silent steps to make noise. He hears Wilbur sniffle and watches as he swipes at his eyes with a sleeve, before gently whispering, “dad?”

“Not now, Ranboo…” Wilbur murmurs, voice choked and too quiet.

The part of Ranboo that’s timid, and quiet and allowed himself to be bullied into doing things he never would have done on his own volition considered listening; turning around, and heeding that advice. But the other part of Ranboo, the headstrong and determined young man who married his best friend and sacrificed a life to bring back his father, stood stronger, and instead of turning away, he sits criss-cross on the ground next to him.

Wilbur sighs but smiles softly. “You’ve always been a bit stubborn…”

Ranboo shoots him a brilliant grin, and Wilbur’s shoulders relax a bit. They sit there for a minute, before Wilbur sighs and unravels himself partway. “I thought… I thought that part of me was gone.”

“What part?” Ranboo asks, uncertain and trying not to step too far.

“The part of me that blew up L’manberg. That sad, scared, and paranoid man who was so determined to have his way he would sacrifice everything for that, even himself.” Wilbur murmurs, unconsciously picking at his feathers, then turns and looks at Ranboo, face falling even further. “Despite having someone to take care of…”

Ranboo reaches up and sets a hand on his shoulder. “I’m old enough to take care of myself; you taught me awfully well. Besides, we all have our inner demons. Some are just a little more… trigger happy, then others.”

Wilbur chokes out a laugh and reaches out, pulling off Ranboo’s crown to ruffle his hair. “I suppose you’re right. But that doesn’t change what I did.”

Ranboo bites his lip and tries not to think too hard about stepping over Niki’s body. He knew she’d be back, she had all three of her lives left, but… “Why did she want me to come with her?”

Wilbur’s face darkens and he rests his head in his arms. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling it’s nothing good. Wouldn’t surprise me if a certain eldritch abomination had something to do with it.”

They’re quiet for a while, and the troubled look remains on Wilbur’s face. Ranboo finally breaks the silence by elbowing him gently in the ribs and saying, “remember how we found Fundy?”

Wilbur laughs, but this time it’s louder and far more genuine. “How could I forget? You come running up to me with a cute little fox in your arms, and turns out it’s no fox at all!”

Ranboo laughs as well. “The look on your face when he shapeshifted. He was what, 14? 15?”

Wilbur sits up fully, grinning. “I can’t remember how old he was, but you were about 10. We never did find the kid’s family; so he just… stuck around. The whole lot of us, that is- you, me, Niki, and Eret- took care of him together.” Wilbur’s smile falters a little. “A shame everything worked out the way it did- Fundy was a good kid.”

Ranboo hums. “Things changed, and they’ll change again. Now c’mon, I think I can hear Tommy trying to explain why he should cook, and we ought to put an end to that.”

Wilbur fake gags and stands. “The sooner the better!”

Ranboo laughs, and they head back into the campsite.


	11. Kitty Hawk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? Maybe.

The next morning was much less eventful, outside of the moment Wilbur finally took to the skies again. He and Phil had gotten up early to try and avoid making a spectacle out of it, but somehow Tubbo had gotten wind of it and Tubbo told Tommy and… Well, it’s Tommy. So naturally, by the time the next morning came around, everyone was sitting or standing (or in Eret’s case, laying and braiding grass) in a large field a little way down the road from where they’d made camp. 

Phil sighed and pinched his nose between his fingers. “Is there any way I can get rid of you lot? Any way at all?”

“Nope.”

“Nah.”

“Uh-uh.”

“No.”

“Sorry, Phil…”

“No, you’re not,” Phil says, frowning at Ranboo, who at least has the good sense to pretend to look guilty through his clear excitement.

Wilbur smiles and shakes his head likely. “I think we’re stuck with our little audience, Dad. Troublesome children included,” he shoots a pointed look to Tubbo, whose head is in Ranboo’s lap, and Tommy, who’s trying to steal grass from Eret. 

“I’m not troublesome!” Tommy insists, pausing in his attempts to tick off Eret. “I’m a fucking angel!”

“I didn’t know Tommy got dropped on his head as a child,” Eret says, and Tommy sputters in response.

Phil rolls his eyes and turns to Wilbur, ignoring Tommy’s indignant shouts behind him. “Are you going to try and get a running start, or just jump and go for it?”

“In the nether, I was able to simply lift myself with a couple of wingbeats. I should be able to do it again, especially given how much more space we have,” Wilbur says thoughtfully, spreading his wings carefully, but his face suddenly falls. “Phil… what if I fall?”

Philza reaches out and squeezes Wilbur’s shoulder. “Then I’ll be right there to catch you. I promise.”

Wilbur smiles and takes a deep breath before turning to face the open ground before him, back to the others, and opens his wings to their full span. Twenty feet of white and golden brown feathers, the pattern mimicking that of a barn own, spread out and casting a wide shadow over the ground behind him. Wilbur takes a deep breath and spreads his feet, crouches, adjusts his wings and, with one powerful beat, launches himself into the air. He hovers there, maintaining his height a few feet off the ground for a moment, testing the waters, before he beats his wings a few more times, rising rapidly into the sky and, within moments, finds himself caught in the wind and soaring high above the field. He looks down, grinning as the wind whips his curls around and the sound of his own steady wings fills the air. Far below, he hears Phil and the others cheering him on, and he lets himself just glide for a moment, drifting through the clouds as the world passes by below, and all he can think is that he’s finally home.

Ranboo watches him fly high above, Phil spreading his own wings moments later and joining him in the sky, and tries his best not to be envious. He had known since he was very young that he likely would not have his father’s wings, on account of the strange mix of blood in him, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming about it. Wilbur and Phil had always looked so free, so at home up in the sky, drifting among the clouds, and Ranboo held the memories of soaring high above the clouds with his dad close to his heart.

The day moves on, and they pack up camp before continuing on their route, occasionally checking their coordinates as they go. They spend most of their walk in pleasant chatter, watching as Wibur or Philza will occasionally fly on ahead to check for danger and eliminate dangerous mobs like creepers. Eventually, the chatter dies down and results in Tommy trying to play eye spy, Technoblade starting a round of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and getting bored halfway through, and Tubbo just saying the names of things aloud. Needless to say, by the time they find a suitable camping spot in a copse of trees a little ways off the main road, they’re all a little crabby and irritable. But once they get the fire started, and everyone’s had something to eat, and some alcohol has been passed around amongst the adults, the mood simmers down.

Ranboo leans against a rock as he looks over at this friends and family. Phil is preening Wilbur’s wings for him, as Wilbur tries to, once again, convince Eret to platonically marry him. Tubbo and Tommy are playing a strange mix of blackjack and go fish by the fire, while Technoblade keeps suggesting terrible rules.

Ranboo smiles and walks over to sit next to his father, the glow of the fire lighting up his red eyes.

“I’m telling you, Eret, I’d make a wonderful husband. I can cook and stuff!”

Eret snorts and raises a brow at him. “There’s a lot more to marriage than cooking and cleaning. How financially stable are you? Are you willing to help me take care of things in the kingdom? Would you be willing to take over if something happened to me?”

Wilbur frowns, thinking over the questions before rattling off, “somewhat stable, yes, and maybe.”

Ranboo snorts, picking up a discarded feather and twisting it in his hands. “I don’t think Tubbo and I even got close to considering  _ any  _ of that.”

Eret sighs and shakes their head. “Well, I suppose you’re both young. And not royalty, so not much of that applies to you.”

“Marrying Eret would make you government, Wilbur,” Phil points out, making a face.

Wilbur sticks his tongue out at him and gets a downy feather put on his tongue in revenge, which he spits out with an over-exaggerated gagging noise. Ranboo laughs, and says his goodnights, before heading for his tent and curling up in his sleeping bag, intent on a good night’s rest. He drifts off into a deep sleep, a small smile on his face as he remembers the events of the day, and hoping the next day dawns just as bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	12. A Soldier

Ranboo is finally awoken by an arrow piercing through his shoulder. He comes back to himself suddenly and painfully, and as he blinks his sight back into focus, his eyes widen with horror. Standing a little way before him, chest heaving and tears slipping down his face is Phil, bow still aloft, though the arrow has long since been loosed. It takes him a moment to realize that Phil’s hands are covered in blood and that somewhere a short distance away he can hear frantic voices and coughing.

As he stands there, looking in horror at Phil’s face, it dawns on him. He had enderwalked, and judging from the violent reaction from Philza and the chaos in the background he’d… hurt someone. Badly, if the amount of blood on Phil’s hands was any indication.

Ranboo is caught between the desire to break down then and there, apologize incessantly, or run as far as he could possibly get. But he can’t do any of those things; he’s frozen still, unable to even lift up a hand to stop the wound in his shoulder from bleeding. His eyes flit away from Phil to the scene just behind him. Eret’s kneeling on the ground next to someone else lying prone, one hand on their chest in an attempt to staunch the bleeding while the other reaches for a strip of cloth that Technoblade is handing him. Tubbo is running up with a bucket of water and Tommy is pacing just behind them. But one person is missing from his view, and in a horrible moment of choking realization, Ranboo realizes who it is that’s lying on the ground. For a moment, he hopes he’s wrong, but then…

“Wilbur you dense fucker stay down! If you move too much you’ll bleed out!” Eret hisses, pressing the cloth tight to Wilbur’s abdomen.

Ranboo blacks out.

When he can finally think again, his memory actually catching up, he’s deep in the nearby woods near a stream of running water, resisting the urge to stick his hands in and leave them there because he deserves it, he almost killed his own father, he almost killed everyone else and they’re all going to hate him and hunt him down like a monster and kill him until he’s out of lives or worse they’ll simply hand him over to Dream and he’ll lose everything he ever built and-

And his face is burning, and his body is wracked with painful sobs as he curls in on himself. The woods are quiet, nothing around to offer him solace or comfort. The one person he wants to run to is bleeding out in a field miles and miles from home, afflicted with injuries Ranboo caused and the tears fall onto his hands and burn there now too. He doesn’t wipe them away, doesn’t do anything to try and make the pain stop. He feels so strongly that he deserves it, that if the pain from the tears and the tight feeling in his chest compounds to kill him then he will deserve to die out here, alone and in pain and wracked with guilt.

He’s heaving in another painful breath when he hears the leaves of the shrubbery rustle, and his head shoots up. Standing on the edge of the clearing, tall and broad-shouldered and imposing, is Technoblade. The first thing Ranboo feels is panic; he’s here to kill him, to watch him slowly bleed out in the forest. Ranboo makes a squeaking noise that comes from the back of his throat and pushes himself back and away from Technoblade, his entire body shaking. But, to his surprise, Technoblade sighs and sits down on the ground a good distance away from him, not approaching, careful to give him space.

“I’m not goin’ to hurt you,” Techno says, raising a hand placidly. “I just want to know what happened, what caused… whatever that was. Because that wasn’t you. I  _ know  _ that wasn’t you, Ranboo.”

“I killed him,” Ranboo whispers, eyes wide with horror as he stares at Techno, whose face melts into a look of just… despair and hurt and worry.

“He’s not dead. He pulled through- he’s a tough bastard that way,” Techno smirks a bit before his expression switches again. “But this isn’t about Wilbur right now; this is about you. What happened?”

“I-I don’t--” Ranboo can feel himself panicking, heart thumping hard in his chest and hands shaking. “I don’t  _ know- _ ”

“Okay, okay…” Techno says, sighing. “It’s okay. Can you tell me how you’re feeling now?”

“Scared, guilty, sad,  _ angry _ …” Ranboo surprises even himself with the last word, eyes widening as he looks down at his hands, covered in angry red marks from his tears.

“Angry…” Techno murmurs, frowning. “Why do you feel angry?”

“Dream,” Ranboo whispers, clenching his hands tight. “He… I think he makes me do this.”

“Do what?”

“Enderwalk. Something-- something he does or says or something makes me go into a-a state.” Ranboo explains, and Techno, sensing that Ranboo is starting to calm down, catches on right away.

“And you call that state enderwalking?” He asks, and Ranboo nods, digging his nails into the skin on his hands and shutting his eyes tight. “Do you… usually hurt people when this happens?”

“I don’t know,” Ranboo whispers, tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes again, and he winces as they make contact with his skin. “I don’t remember what happens when I enderwalk; the memories are gone. When I come out of it, it’s like waking up from a deep sleep.”

Technoblade groans and runs a hand down his face. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Okay… Okay. We’re gonna go back to the campsite and try and figure all this weird shit out, alright? I promise no one will hurt you, and if they try they’ll have to get through me first.”

Ranboo begins to stand as Technoblade does, but hesitates. “Do you promise?” he whispers, voice breaking.

Technoblade looks up and pauses before rummaging around his pack and digging out a health potion, tossing it Ranboo’s way with a smirk that he barely manages to hold and says, “I promise.”

They make it back to the camp, which is surprisingly still. Ranboo was expecting a flurry of activity; people running around with weapons and healing supplies and shouting over one another, but instead, Tubbo and Tommy and Eret sit around the smoldering remains of the fire, though he notices that Phil is not present, and neither is Wilbur, though the last one isn’t surprising in the slightest. He can hear them talking as he approaches.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if this led back to Dream, too. An attempt to stop us, to kill Wilbur so he can bring him back again and further ‘prove’ his own abilities,” Eret muses, frowning.

“Explains Niki, too. He probably manipulated or bribed her or something to get her to get Ranboo for him. Shame she still wants to kill me,” Tommy says, surprisingly nonchalant.

Tubbo pokes at the fire with a stick, brows knit tight, and tear stains down his face. “I’ve never seen him like that… It was scary. I don’t-”

“Whatever that was, it wasn’t Ranboo.” Tommy interrupts, insistent. “He’s one of the good ones. He wouldn’t have done that by himself. Dream has something to do with all this.”

“If he did send Niki after us, why would he want Ranboo? Was this the reason?” Eret says, crossing his arms as he watches Tubbo poke at the fire.

“Probably not,” Techno says, and the others look at him with various expressions of surprise. “I’ve said it before, but there’s a lot more to this kid than meets the eye. Probably has something to do with Pandora.”

Before Ranboo can even attempt to add to this conversation Tubbo throws his stick in the fire and runs up and hugs Ranboo tight, rambling on about how scared he was and how he was afraid he’d lost Ranboo forever and that he was glad he was okay. Ranboo only hesitates a moment before wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Tubbo’s hair, inhaling the scent and trying not to cry again. A moment later, Phil walks out of Wilbur’s tent, drying his hands with an exasperated expression on his face.

“Wilbur just spent the last ten minutes ranting about fucking anteaters, so I think he’s going to be okay,” Philza says, completely deadpan, and the response is a mix of sighs and relieved laughter. “He wants to talk to you,” Phil says, looking up at Ranboo.

Ranboo takes a deep breath and nods, making his way into the tent. Wilbur is sitting up, flipping through a journal filled with scribbles and some notes. He smiles softly as he sees Ranboo standing nervously by the doorway and waves him over. Ranboo does so, but slowly and cautiously until he gets within grabbing range, and Wilbur yanks him in for a hug.  
“I’m not mad. I don’t blame you- I’m just glad you’re alright,” he whispers, and that’s all it takes for Ranboo to completely meltdown in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.

Wilbur doesn’t say much, merely strokes his hair and whispers words of love and comfort as he breaks down until Ranboo finds the strength to pull away, still sniffling. Wilbur carefully dries away the tears and blood, before grabbing what’s left of a regen potion sitting next to him and handing it over. Ranboo hesitates, something in him telling him that he doesn’t deserve to be healed, but Wilbur gives him a stern look and he sighs and drinks it anyway. Satisfied, Wilbur flops back into the pillows on the cot behind him.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Ranboo chokes out and Wilbur laughs loudly.

“Me too! I’m glad you’re not dead either, Boo,” Wilbur says, reaching up to adjust his crown. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. Soon this will all be a bad dream, and everything will make sense. For everyone.”

“... Okay. I trust you.”

“Good.”


	13. Leaves Compared with Flowers

Thankfully, there weren’t any other incidents during the rest of the journey, outside of an enderman attacking them and Phil having to kill it before Ranboo could look away, resulting in a panic attack that lasted 20 minutes and refusing to let go of Wilbur’s hand the rest of that day, as well as Wilbur “accidentally” adding sand to one night’s stew. But it was a relief when they finally reached the coordinates Sam had given them, arriving in a peaceful little village positioned on the edge of a large, dark forest. The people here didn’t seem to mind the shadow the forest cast down over them, mingling amongst themselves and surprisingly open to their unusual set of visitors.

After booking a room at the local inn, they split up to find out as much as they can about Pandora, asking around and quickly managing to gather information. Pandora, according to local legend, was a spirit who lived in the forest. It’s guardian, and sometimes that of the town’s as well. She was only ever seen at night, and the few who claimed to have laid eyes on her said that she was ethereal and otherworldly, but also incredibly beautiful and kind. There were many, many stories about her saving the village from catastrophe, and other sightings of her unexpectedly showing up.

As Ranboo and Wilbur finished listening to the tale of an old fisherman, who worked on the nearby river, Ranboo glanced over and saw the odd look on Wilbur’s face again. It had been present almost the entire time they were in the village, and every time he brought it up his father simply brushed him off again. Ranboo wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated or worried, but after a while, he simply gave up trying to figure it out and instead turned his attention back to the denizens of the village.

Upon meeting up with the others over dinner at the inn, it quickly becomes clear that most of the village’s stories match up almost perfectly, which is in itself pretty impressive. Wilbur, however, barely contributes to the conversation, merely picking at his food and staring at the wall and Ranboo suddenly feels himself growing frustrated at his lack of help or even concern, and before he can really reel in his emotions he snaps, “not like Will was any help.”

Wilbur suddenly snaps out of whatever trance he’s in and turns to look at Ranboo in surprise. “Wha- I was plenty of help!” He sputters, and Ranboo huffs and rolls his eyes. “I was just… distracted, is all.”

“Yeah by the pretty woman selling flowers, maybe…” Ranboo mutters, stabbing a little too hard at his bread.

“That’s not-” Wilbur responds, face beaming red. “You watch your attitude.”

Ranboo looks up at him with a steady glare. “Or what? You’ll ground me? Send me to my room?”

Wilbur’s face turns even redder, and he glares at Ranboo. “Watch your tone, Ranboo. Now.”

Ranboo drops his knife and meets Wilbur’s eyes with his own, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Y’know what? No! I spent the entire day gathering information while you wandered around like an idiot, pretending to be helpful! You don’t get to criticize me on my tone when you’ve been nothing but a nuisance all day!”

Before anyone can respond to that, Ranboo pushes back his chair and storms out of the inn. He isn’t paying attention to where he’s going, not really, and when he finally pauses to gather his bearings, he realizes he’s wandered into the woods with no real idea on which direction he’s going. He bites back a curse and kicks at a nearby rock, sending it rolling into the underbrush. The rock strikes something solid, and Ranboo pauses, staring after it. He figures it was probably just a tree or a bigger rock, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he carefully picks his way through the underbrush and comes out into a large clearing.

A few feet away lies the discarded rock, sitting next to the wall of a small cottage of wood and stone. Ranboo blinks in surprise and follows the wall around till he sees the front door. It appears that the place has been abandoned but something about it… calls to him. He takes a tentative step towards the door when a voice calls his name from behind; “Ranboo!” Ranboo’s shoulders tense as he whips around, and the underbrush behind him parts as Wilbur comes into the clearing, gasping for breath. They stand there for a moment before Wilbur straightens up.

“I’m sorry. About today, being distracted and all, and not giving you a proper explanation,” Wilbur says, still slightly winded.

Ranboo sighs and lets the tension drop from his shoulders. “I’m sorry for getting short-tempered with you. I was just frustrated, and maybe a little…”

“Homesick?” Wilbur finishes, smiling softly, and Ranboo nods.

“So why were you distracted today?” Ranboo inquires, and Wilbur frowns.

“Everything about the village, about this place feels… familiar, somehow. Like I’ve been here before.” Wilbur’s eyes drift past him and widen as he sees the cottage. “I’ve  _ definitely  _ been here before.”

Ranboo watches as Wilbur walks up to the door and opens it and steps inside. He follows close behind, stuttering, “wait, we probably shouldn’t just burst into people’s homes!”

“It’s fine,” Wilbur says, squinting into the darkness before grabbing a torch from his inventory and lighting it. “I feel like we’re allowed to be in here. Supposed to be in here, even…”

Ranboo gives up on his attempts to persuade him to leave and instead turns to look around them. The cottage would be cozy if it weren’t completely abandoned, he thinks. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust, and all the candle sconces and lanterns have burnt themselves out. It feels like no one has been in here for a very long time, and yet Ranboo somehow feels… safe here. At home, even.

Wilbur wanders around for a moment, that peculiar expression back on his face, and suddenly he stops as he reaches a corner of the room near the fireplace. Hands shaking, he quickly gives Ranboo the torch and stoops down to pick something up. When he turns around, he’s cradling an old, worn, but well cared for guitar.

Ranboo watches in shock as tears gather in the corner of Wilbur’s eyes, and the man hurriedly sets the guitar down and wipes the tears away, sitting down on the couch and burying his head in his hands.

“Dad…?” Ranboo whispers, reaching over and setting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I remember…” Wilbur whispers, voice breaking as he takes in a shuddering breath. “I-I… remember everything. Pandora, the memory spell, the real reason I blew up L’manberg… All of it.” Wilbur’s eyes drift back to the guitar, and he swallows hard before looking up at Ranboo, a sad and soft expression on his face. “It all leads back to you.”

Ranboo stares at him for a long moment. “Back- back to me?”

“Pandora’s your mother,” Wilbur says, and all Ranboo can do is gape at him. “She was…” he sighs, almost dreamily. “Beautiful, otherworldly. I think it was the supernatural in me, the relation to the angel of death and Death herself that really drew me into her.”

“I knew about Phil, but your mother is literal, actual  _ Death?!  _ How did I not know that?” Ranboo stutters, staring at him.

Wilbur winces. “Didn’t know how to approach it. How do you tell your child his grandmother is the goddess of Death? Phil, at least, I could explain.”

“How does that… affect you? Does it give you any abilities?”

“Well, I got Phil’s wings, clearly. But being Death’s son means I can… sense it. When someone is about to lose a life, I can feel it. I can actively search for it too, and it changes my appearance, I’ve been told. That’s why your skin on one half is so pale; it’s a reflection of the change in myself,” Wilbur explains, then sighs and smiles at him. “I’m surprised you’re asking about my mother, not your own.”

“What is she?” Ranboo asks, barely above a whisper.

“I… don’t know. She’s magical, almost… godlike. She has access to magics I’ll never be able to access even with my relationship to Death.”

Ranboo raises a brow. “Like the memory spell?”

Wilbur’s expression shatters again, and he drops his head into his hands again. “The memory spell… It was a sort of powder. One I asked for; I wanted to- erase you from the memories of everyone, to keep you safe. It was placed in the TNT I used to blow up L’manberg.”

Ranboo feels an odd mix of pity, and love, and anger. “Clearly that didn’t work well…”

Wilbur laughs, the sound grating and empty. “No, it didn’t. I was in the wrong state of mind and wasn’t thinking clearly. Probably why she made it so that she could reverse it; all I needed to do was ask.”

“Is that why Dream wanted to find her? Her skill with magic?” Ranboo asks, frowning.

“Possibly. He probably sees her as a threat, someone who could stop whatever his crazy plan is.”

Ranboo swallows hard. “He knows the coordinates, too.”

“I know.”

“He could be here any minute.”

Wilbur looks up at him, determined. “Then we’ll be here to stop him.”


	14. Stars

Wilbur sends a communication to the others to meet them at the cottage, and the coordinates, and in the meantime they take some time to explore. Wilbur seems to be deep in memories that Ranboo isn’t sure he wants to know, so Ranboo takes the time to explore the cottage and try and learn a bit about the woman that is his mother, beyond what Wilbur knows, as the way he phrased it, it was little more than a one night stand.

“I actually got lost. Wandered into the woods one day and a few minutes later, realized I had no idea where I was. I was lucky enough to stumble upon this cottage, especially given that it was raining and I was soaked to the bone. My poor guitar,” he laughs, glancing at the guitar in the corner. “I convinced her to let me in, and we talked for a while, and one thing led to another… Nine or so months later you showed up on my doorstep with a letter, and now we’re both back here.”

Ranboo glanced back to where his father was sitting in front of the now lit fire, marveling at the old guitar in his lap, before carefully opening a door into the bedroom. It was simple; decorated with dried flowers in frames, a warm and loved quilt on a worn mattress above a basic wooden frame. A wither rose is the only living plant left in the room, flourishing silently on the windowsill. He peers into the closet, marveling at the array of clothes. Most of them are soft and flowy dresses in various colors, most commonly black or violet, and a few pairs of pants meant for gardening, judging by the grass stains on the knees.

He shuts the closet and takes a quick look into the basic bathroom before heading back out to the main space, with the kitchen and dining room, as well as the fire and some seating. Wilbur is playing now, notes to a song Ranboo’s never heard. He smiles at him as he walks by, and Ranboo glances around before his eyes fall on a trapdoor in a corner. He carefully opened it, and stepped down the ladder, coming to a room that was still lit with soulfire torches and lanterns. There were brewing stands and chests scattered around the room and one corner was entirely devoted to an entire enchanting library. Ranboo pauses and leans against a nearby wall, and…

… Accidentally activated a button he hadn’t seen. He jumps back in shock as the redstone activates and an opening in the wall, two by three, reveals itself. All the redstone lamps in the hall beyond come on and Ranboo simply stares, shocked. He glances up to the ceiling above him, the sound of Wilbur’s song drifting down, muffled, then back at the long hall. He can see stairs at the end of it, and he feels his curiosity building. He considers turning back, telling Wilbur and waiting for backup before entering.

But... 

He takes a deep breath and steps into the hall, following it to the stairs. He takes them down… and down… and down… And emerges into the portal room of a stronghold. He stops and simply stares; the room has been completely reimagined. The walls are a strange yellowish-white brick, and the floor is made of obsidian. Strange light fixtures hang in the corners, and the portal in the center hasn’t been made into a table; it’s filled with eyes of ender, and active, the center a swirling miasma of darkness and bright stars. A platform surrounds the portal, with a set of stairs sitting in front of him. He walks up them before being right above the active portal, staring with wide eyes in amazement. He leans forward, trying to get a closer look when a voice breaks through his trance-

“Stop.”

Ranboo whips around. Standing just at the entrance, glaring at him, is a face that is both familiar and completely alien. Dressed in exquisite silks, with long white-blond hair that falls down his back and vibrant, glowing green eyes is a man who looks like an unscarred, much softer Dream. This… other Dream, cocks his head at Ranboo.

“You cannot enter the portal. I will not let you.”

“Who-what… are you?” Ranboo asks, blinking at him.

“Some refer to me as a guardian. Some a spirit. Some… a god. Most commonly I am referred to as DreamXD. But I prefer X.”

Ranboo stares at him, trying to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. “Why do you look like him?”

X laughs, tilting his head back. “I do not look like Dream; Dream looks like me. He is… not my son, not quite, but I suppose a distant relative. A descendant.”

“What are you a guardian of?” Ranboo asks before he can stop himself.

X looks at him, silent as he stares… and stares… and stares… He looks at the portal as he finally answers, “the End.”

“Like Death?” Ranboo asks, furrowing his brows.

“No. It is a dimension, and it must remain safe. You would access it through this portal; but I will not allow you to enter, child of the End or not.”

“What do you mean ‘child of the End’?”

X blinks, his eyes piercing into Ranboo’s. “You ask a lot of questions.” Ranboo thinks he’s not going to answer, but he does, saying, “Lady Pandora is, in essence, a spirit of the End. Albeit, much more powerful than the rest. You refer to these spirits as ‘endermen’.”

“Why can’t I go to the End?” Ranboo asks, frowning.

“There are things that reside there, that those of the upper world would misuse or even destroy. I will not allow that to happen.” X’s eyes seem to glow brighter as he says this, and Ranboo swallows hard.

“Is… Lady Pandora one of those things?” Ranboo asks.

X sighs. “She is. I understand the desire to meet your other parent, but-”

“I need to protect her. Dream, your descendant, wants to kill her. And I highly doubt he’d listen to you if you told him not to enter.” Ranboo says, hurriedly. “Let me in so I can warn her, then we can leave.”

X frowns. “Why should I trust that?”

“You’ll be with me the entire time… If I do anything you don’t like, you can-” he swallows hard. “You can kill me.”

X considers it, silent again for a long moment, before saying, “alright. You may enter, but know I will be right behind you.”

Ranboo is about to step in, but then he turns and says. “I should tell my father, just in case.”

X nods in agreement. “Wise…”

X remains in the portal room as Ranboo runs back up the stairs and pulls himself back through the trapdoor, almost running right into Wilbur as he reaches for the hatch. Wilbur sighs in relief and helps him through.

“I hadn’t seen you in a bit, I was getting-” he sees Ranboo’s expression and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Ranboo launches into a choppy explanation of what happened in the portal room, but before he can even attempt to go back down, Wilbur’s hand shoots out and stops him. He sighs and looks Ranboo in the eyes. “I can tell I’m not going to be able to convince you otherwise, so… let me do something for you before you go.”

“What is it?”

“Remember how I can actively search out death? Let me do that for you, let me check, for my own peace of mind if nothing else.”

Ranboo hesitates, but nods and Wilbur steps back and closes his eyes, focusing. All the blood seems to drain from his face, leaving his skin almost chalk white. He opens his eyes, and the red is glowing, bright and piercing and sending chills through Ranboo’s body. Wilbur frowns, and murmurs… “I don’t… Wait, that’s…” His eyes widen, looking past Ranboo. “No… It can’t be… No…” A moment or so more passes, and then Wilbur seems to come back to himself, color flooding his skin and eyes dulling to their usual maroon. He lunges forward and grabs Ranboo by the shoulder and whispers, “don’t. Please don’t do this.”

Ranboo blinks at him. “Why?” he asks, shocked.

“I could sense- a final death. The last life ripped away and sending someone to the void. I couldn’t tell who, but…” Wilbur takes a shuddering breath.

Ranboo takes his hands in his own and smiles. “I still have two lives left. I’ll be okay.”  
“Ranboo…”

Before Wilbur can talk him out of it, Ranboo turns and goes back down the ladder and into the portal room. X is still there, and Ranboo nods. X gestures for him to go first and Ranboo walks up the steps and stares into the stars below before taking a deep breath and leaping in, X just behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~We're in the Endgame now...~~


	15. Reluctance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter posted a little earlier than usual because I wasn't sure when I'd get to it tonight!

Ranboo didn’t know what he expected out of the End, but it wasn’t what he found. They were on an obsidian platform, next to a large chunk of floating land made of the same stone used to make the bricks found in Pandora’s portal room. Large obsidian pillars dotted the landscape, rising high into the night sky. Some of them had cages of iron on the top, but all of them held the same bobbing pink crystal. Somewhere in the distance, a creature lets out a mighty roar, the sound echoing across the flat plains before them. Endermen wander among the pillars, and some of them look far more human than others like Ranboo’s never seen outside of himself.

Sitting in the center of the pillars is an indent in the stone, lined with bedrock and a pillar in the center, with four torches on the top. X follows Ranboo’s gaze and says, “that will be your portal home. When you go through, you will awaken at your permanent respawn point. Hopefully, you will be traveling through it soon.”

“Aww, I was just starting to think we were becoming friends, X!” Ranboo says with a smirk before stepping off the obsidian platform and onto the island.

X merely rolls his eyes and follows him off, and Ranboo begins to look around. “Do you know where I’ll find Pandora?”

X shrugs. “Lady Pandora likes to wander between here and the End Cities, where she governs. It will most likely be a waiting game.”

Ranboo sighs as they roam the large floating island, and to pass the time and take his mind off his own anxieties, he begins to ask questions. “What’s this stone called?”

“We refer to it as end stone. It can only be found in this dimension; it does not generate naturally in yours.”

Ranboo looks around himself, and his eyes land on the crystals. “What about those?”

“End crystals. Those you can craft in your world, though the recipe is a carefully guarded secret. They’re used to health-” X breaks off, thinking better of his statement and says, “nevermind what they’re used to heal.”

Ranboo sighs, trying not to seem disappointed when X seems to take pity on him and says, “the ender dragon.”

Ranboo looks up at him in surprise. “But you just said-” When he meets X’s eyes, however, they’re wide with shock as well.

“I didn’t say that…” X whispers and Ranboo feels a chill run down his spine.

“No, but I did.”

Ranboo turns around slowly, heart hammering, and finds himself face to face with Dream. His mask is on this time, concealing his scars, and instead of the suit he was wearing during his dramatic entrance to Eret’s party, he’s in his usual neon green hoodie and jeans. His hair is tied in a loose ponytail, and his hands stuck nonchalantly in his pockets. Pieces of enchanted netherite armor glitter over his clothes- shin guards and shoulder pads and gauntlets. His expression is impossible to read behind the mask, but Ranboo has a feeling that he’s probably awfully proud of himself.

“How did you get in here?” X whispers, eyes wide with horror.

“The portal the Syndicate has been using as a glorified table,” Dream says, huffing. “I repaired the damages you caused and I’ve simply been waiting.” Dream turns his head towards Ranboo, who feels a chill run down his spine as he remembers Wilbur’s ominous warning. “A shame my little plans didn’t work- I really thought Niki was tougher than that. And good ol’ Phil, snapping you out of the enderwalk state…” Dream tuts softly, reaching up to pull his ax off of his back. “I’ll miss working with you, Ranboo.”

“What do you want with this place?” X hisses and Dream turns his attention to him.

“Simple. I want that End goddess dead, and the dragon too. Then I’m going to take the egg, hatch it, and use that ender dragon to burn what’s left of the server to the ground,” Dream stalks forward slowly, the eyes of his mask not moving from Ranboo’s face as he talks. “Then, I’m going to use the resurrection book to bring back the people I want alive and start everything over, exactly as it should be.”

“What do you mean, as it should be?” Ranboo breaths, trying to keep his eyes on Dream’s movement, trying to gauge how close he is to death.

Dream sighs. “Quiet. Peaceful. Just me and my closest friends, with myself in complete control. Paradise.” Dream hefts the axe up. “A shame you won’t be around to see it!”

He swings at Ranboo, and he’s certain this is the end, when X leaps in front of him with a summoned sword, blocking the blow. X hisses as he’s pushed backward, and raises the sword again, this time intending on delivering a devastating blow, but Dream merely lifts one hand and snaps his fingers and-

X vanishes. Ranboo stares in shock as Dream tips his head back and howls with laughter.

“Oh, the fact that he could stop me when I’ve got access to commands now! This is going to be absolutely  _ glorious _ .” Dream raises the axe again, and Ranboo turns to flee as it comes crashing down where he was standing only moments before.

Dream huffs in surprise and begins stalking towards Ranboo once more as he runs, trapped. Without X here, there’s no one around to let him out of the End, which means…

Which means he’s stuck here with Dream.

Suddenly, he has a much greater appreciation for what Tommy went through, especially as Dream manages to catch him by the ankle. He turns, and sees the sharp glint of the enchanted netherite blade, and closes his eyes, waiting to hear the same bloody thump he heard when Dream took one of Eret’s lives.

He waits for the sound of death and hopes it won’t be as painful as last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your cliffhanger, I'll see you guys tomorrow!


End file.
